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Personal Narrative: Sofa

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Sofa In the corner of my memory lies a dilapidated, black sofa— my only loyal friend who had looked past my ethnicity and continuously supported me. Although I had always yearned to create a multitude of unbreakable friendships, fate was not on my side. Throughout my childhood, I have been unable to deepen the bond with my peers during after school hours due to my low socioeconomic status. Both of my parents had to work twelve hours a day and six days a week, cleaning and decorating nails in their business. When I was not in school, I was sitting on the sofa in the break room and careful to avoid creating a disturbance. Over time, my scorn over my position grew into acceptance, and then pride as I developed my values. Being a second-generation

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